


Parasite

by paperstorm



Series: Deleted Scenes [72]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tag for <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1222598/">'Criss Angel Is a Douchebag', 4x12</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parasite

**Author's Note:**

> Fic contains dialogue from the episode Criss Angel Is a Douchebag, it belongs to Eric Kripke and Julie Siege.
> 
> [](http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/204/dsb4.jpg/)

Sam wakes up with a start to loud rustling noises and the mattress bouncing beside him. He struggles to pry his eyes open and he looks around quickly and blinks a few times before Dean’s back comes into focus. Dean’s sitting up in the bed, his shoulders heaving as he breathes heavily, and Sam can’t see his face but he can tell something’s wrong. He instinctively whips his arm out to grab for the gun in the drawer of the bed-side table before he’s even fully awake, pointing it around the room as he searches frantically for whatever’s attacking them. He doesn’t see anything – maybe it’s invisible. Or maybe it’s something only Dean can see.  
  
“What is it?” he asks harshly, his voice thick and rough from sleep.  
  
Dean looks over at him quickly, his eyes widening when he sees the gun. “What are you doing?” he cries.  
  
Sam blinks again. “What … I thought something was here! Why’re you …” Then it hits him. They’re not being attacked; Dean had a nightmare. Again. “Oh,” he says stupidly. “Sorry, I thought …”  
  
Dean rolls his eyes and flops back down in the bed. “Lucky for me you’re a crappy shot.”  
  
“Sorry,” Sam says again. He puts the gun back into the drawer and lies down too. He stares at the ceiling for a minute, breathing steadily to slow his racing heart and listening to Dean breathe beside him. “So, you okay?”  
  
“Just a dream, Sam,” Dean mutters, sounding irritated. “Go back to sleep.”  
  
Dean rolls over onto his side facing away from Sam, and Sam rubs his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. It’s the sixth time Dean’s bolted upright in the middle of the night like that in less than two weeks. He never talks about it even though Sam pushes, but Sam doesn’t need his half-a-degree from Stanford to know what’s plaguing his brother’s sleep. The nightmares are happening way more often than they were a few months ago, and Sam doesn’t know what to do. Dean’s tail-spinning, and Sam’s completely helpless.  
  
“Wanna tell me about it?” Sam asks softly.  
  
“No,” Dean says shortly, and Sam would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting that.  
  
He exhales heavily. “Tell me anyway.”  
  
“And that would accomplish what, exactly.”  
  
“You’ll feel better.”  
  
“I feel fine.”  
  
“Do you believe _yourself_ when you say things like that? ‘Cause you’re not coming anywhere _close_ to fooling me.”  
  
Dean rolls over onto his back again and glares daggers at Sam. “I got an idea, Sam. Why don’t you make me an appointment to see a shrink, huh? Then I can talk about my problems, look at some ink blots, pop some happy pills, and then everything will just magically go back to being sunshine and roses.”  
  
He turns away from Sam again before Sam can answer; not that Sam has any idea what to say anyway. He stares at the back of Dean’s head and clenches his jaw to hold back tears. It hurts so damn much to see Dean like this, and to know nothing he says or does will fix it. Sam loves him so much. He wants so badly to help him, to make him remember how to smile, and he can’t. For a while Sam tries to put everything out of his mind and fall back asleep, but it’s pointless. His thoughts are racing, and Dean isn’t sleeping either. He’s still tense and wide awake beside Sam, probably reliving whatever horrible thing he’d been dreaming about that he refuses to burden Sam with.  
  
Sam knows there’s a good chance he’ll get a black-eye for his trouble, but he can’t leave Dean alone. Not right now; not like this. He rolls onto his side too and moves in behind Dean’s back.  
  
“Sam,” Dean mumbles, warning Sam away before Sam’s even touched him.  
  
“Please,” Sam whispers. He tucks himself up behind his brother and slides his arm around Dean’s waist. Dean doesn’t shove him away, so that’s something. “I can’t keep acting like everything’s okay, like I don’t see what’s going on with you.”  
  
Dean doesn’t answer. He stays tense for a long time, maybe fifteen minutes, while Sam rubs slow circles on his stomach and kisses behind his ear. Sam doesn’t stop, he waits for Dean to break, but then eventually he thinks maybe Dean won’t. He still isn’t pushing Sam away but he’s clenched and motionless and not giving Sam anything. And then finally he sighs and relaxes, leaning back just slightly into Sam’s chest, and Sam’s eyes fill with tears. As much as it hurts when Dean keeps him at arm’s length, it almost hurts more when he doesn’t.  
  
“I’m okay,” Dean says again, his tone softer. He slides his hand over Sam’s. “It was just a dream. I know it wasn’t real.”  
  
“Tell me,” Sam murmurs. He threads his fingers through Dean’s and squeezes them, and he kisses Dean’s bare shoulder and then leaves his lips resting there.  
  
Dean shakes his head. “Nothin’ to tell. Hey, I forgot to mention, I think I found us a case.”  
  
It takes Sam a moment to wrap his head around the quick subject change. “You – where?”  
  
“Iowa,” Dean answers, turning over onto his back again and looking up at Sam. “Dead guy lying on a sidewalk with a bunch of stab-wounds all over him but no holes in his clothes where the knives went in.”  
  
“Oh.” Sam frowns. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound normal.”  
  
“I’m thinkin’ not. So let’s get some sleep, okay?”  
  
Sam sees right though what Dean’s trying to do, but he doesn’t have the heart to argue. He nods and settles back down on the pillows, but he keeps Dean close. After a minute Dean slides his fingers over Sam’s cheek and kisses him slowly, and Sam wants to ask why but he doesn’t. He kisses back, sliding his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip and tightening his arms around Dean’s body. Dean rolls into him, his half-hard cock pressing into Sam’s hip, and Sam reaches for it without thinking. He shoves Dean’s boxers down enough to pull his cock out, wrapping his hand around it and stroking until it hardens. He sucks at Dean’s tongue while he squeezes his erection, twisting his wrist around the head and thumbing over the slit. It’s hot and familiar in his hand, and some of the tension releases from Sam’s shoulders. He may not know how to keep the nightmares away or take that haunted look out of his brother’s eyes, but _this_ he knows how to do. It’s not enough but it’s better than nothing.  
  
“Sammy,” Dean sighs, rocking his hips and fucking into Sam’s hand.  
  
Sam nips at his bottom lip and then spreads wet, messy kisses down Dean’s jaw. When he gets to Dean’s neck he gently bites at the tendon and Dean hisses and arches into him. He slides his hand into Sam’s hair and tugs at it, pulling Sam’s head back up so he can attack his mouth with kisses that leave Sam’s lips numb. Sam speeds his hand up, the muscles in his forearm straining as he keeps squeezing Dean’s shaft as he strokes it.  
  
“Just like that,” Dean whispers into Sam’s lips. “Gonna.”  
  
Sam doesn’t answer. He’s on autopilot, desperate to find _some_ way to make Dean happy since nothing he’s tried so far has worked. He swirls his tongue around Dean’s and strokes even faster, and Dean grunts and thrusts up into Sam’s fist and then his dick spills warm and sticky over Sam’s fingers. Sam keeps squeezing gently, working Dean through it, and even when it stops pulsing Sam doesn’t let go. He cradles Dean’s spent cock in his hand, playing with it gently and trailing his fingers over the warm flesh, and when he looks back up at his brother Dean’s watching him closely. He tilts his chin forward to kiss Sam again, soft and warm this time.  
  
“You want …?” Dean asks, but Sam shakes his head.  
  
“M’good.”  
  
“You sure?” Dean frowns a little and looks into Sam’s eyes like he’s trying to gauge whether Sam’s telling the truth.  
  
Sam smiles a little, although it feels forced and he doesn’t know why. “Yeah.”  
  
“Kay.” Dean licks his lips and narrows his eyes for just another moment, and then he seems to decide everything’s okay and he pulls Sam into his arms. Sam settles half on top of his brother with his face pressed into Dean’s neck and Dean’s arms around his back. It’s safe and warm and where he belongs, but it doesn’t feel that way right now. Sam closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of his brother and tracing circles with his fingers over Dean’s tattoo. It’s a while before Dean falls asleep, but eventually his breathing evens out as he drifts off. Sam lies awake until the sun comes up.  
  
____  
  
Sam’s hitting a mountain of complete dead ends in his attempt to figure out what could have caused that man’s death, when there’s a knock at the door. Sam frowns. He isn’t expecting anyone, and Dean wouldn’t knock. He gets up slowly, walking over to the door and checking the peephole, thinking too late that he should have a gun in his pocket, but the distorted sight that greets him through the hole isn’t someone dangerous. Unwelcome, yes, but not dangerous.  
  
Sam resists rolling his eyes and opens the door, and Ruby crosses her arms and cocks her head to one side like she’s annoyed with him even though he hasn’t done anything. “What are you doing here, Ruby?”  
  
“I should be asking you the same thing,” she says obnoxiously, and she stalks past him into the room.  
  
Sam does roll his eyes this time, and shuts the door behind her. “I’m working a job.”  
  
“The whole world’s about to be engulfed in Hellfire and you’re in Magic Town, USA,” she sums up sarcastically.  
  
Sam laughs humorlessly. “You got somethin’ against magic?”  
  
“That would almost be funny if thirty-four seals hadn’t been broken already. _Thirty-four_ , Sam. That’s over halfway. The angels are losing this war. Every day is one day closer, and if _someone_ doesn’t do something soon – ”  
  
“And that someone is me?” Sam interrupts angrily.  
  
“Who else would it be?”  
  
“I don’t know where these seals are!” Sam yells. “I don’t know squat! So why don’t you tell me where you’d like me to start!”  
  
“Well you can quit dicking around here for one thing! Bigger fish, Sam.” She grins at him but it’s that cruel, mocking smile that makes Sam’s skin crawl. He really, really hates her. Maybe even more than he did before. “And if the seals are being broken, you might wanna go after the one doing the breaking.”  
  
“Lilith?” Sam asks incredulously. Ruby spent months convincing him _not_ to go after Lilith when that was all Sam wanted to do. It doesn’t make sense that she’s changing her mind now.  
  
“Cut the head off the snake. You’re the only one who can stop her, Sam.” She walks around him and murmurs in his ear, “So step up, and kill the little bitch.”  
  
“Oh, I am game, believe me. It’s not the psychic thing I got a problem with.”  
  
“Yeah, I know what you got a problem with, but tough! It’s the only way!”  
  
Sam glares at her. What he hates the most is that he _wants_ to say yes. He promised Dean he was done with Ruby, and he promised himself too, but Dean isn’t getting better. If anything, he’s getting worse, and Sam’s running out of options. He hates feeling so helpless, and killing Lilith is something he could do. Even still, he doesn’t trust Ruby like he used to. “No.”  
  
“You know, this would all be so much easier if you just admit to yourself that you liked it.”  
  
Sam clenches his jaw and looks away from her in disgust.  
  
“That feeling that it gives you,” she continues.  
  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam grinds out, even though yeah, she does. He did like the way the blood made him feel. He misses feeling that powerful.  
  
“Oh, I don’t, huh? Fine. It’s simple. Lucifer rises, the apocalypse starts. You think you have demons on your hands now? People are gonna die, Sam. Oceans of people. So you just let me know when you’re ready.”  
  
She glares at him again and then she leaves, and Sam sighs and runs his hands through his hair. He doesn’t want to listen to her. He knows it’s a terrible idea. But she’s right that Lilith needs to be stopped. And Dean deserves for someone to pay for what he’s been through, what he’s still going through. Sam isn’t happy about it, but he’s starting to think maybe Ruby’s been right about more than he thought.  
  
____  
  
What Jay says to them when it’s all over hits Sam at so many awkward angles it almost knocks him flat. Sam’s worst nightmare is ever being without Dean again, and it’s a real possibility with what they do. Sam’s not sure why he never really considered that before Dean went to Hell. He’s been scared Dean’s going to die on hunts when they go sideways, but they always find their way out somehow so it never seemed like Dean dying was something that could really happen. And then he did, and Sam just shattered. And Dean’s back but every single time they take a case, Dean could die again, for good this time. Dean could have died _yesterday_ , and then Sam would be just like Jay. Alone, without his brother. Forever. It scares Sam down to his core. It’s that, more than anything, that has him ditching Dean at the bar and calling Ruby. Sam doesn’t want to trust her, but she’s offering him a way to put an end to all this. He wants to grow old _with_ Dean, not without him. If there’s even a chance Ruby can make that happen, Sam has to take it.  
  
“Okay. I’m in,” he tells her before he climbs into the car she probably stole.  
  
“What changed your mind?”  
  
“I don’t wanna be doing this when I’m an old man.”  
  
Ruby nods, and drives away. Sam doesn’t know where they’re going, and he doesn’t ask. Probably just somewhere private so he can drink her blood without Dean finding them. There’s still an enormous part of Sam that doesn’t want to do this. He’s not going to be able to tell Dean about it, and he hates lying to his brother. Anything that wedges between them, even small things, makes Sam feel like he doesn’t belong in his own skin. But he’s out of other options.  
  
“So you wanna tell me why you really changed your mind?” Ruby asks eventually.  
  
“I told you.”  
  
“I know. I just don’t think it was the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway.”  
  
“Do you care?” Sam asks bluntly.  
  
“Yeah, I do actually.” She glances over at him briefly. “Look, I know you think because I’m a demon I’m some kind of bottom-feeder who’s only interested in … I don’t know, whatever it is you think. But I do care about you, Sam.”  
  
Sam sighs and shakes his head, staring out the window at the dimly lit street in front of them. “Dean cares about me. You just need me.”  
  
“Is that really what you think?” Ruby sounds like it actually upsets her, maybe, and that’s probably the thing Sam hates the most about her – that he can never tell if she’s being sincere or not. Sometimes he thinks there are moments when she’s telling him the truth, and then other times he thinks every word that’s ever come out of her mouth is a lie.  
  
Sam shrugs. “Am I wrong? You care about stopping Lilith. I’m just necessary.”  
  
Ruby’s silent for a minute or two, and then she pulls the car over to the side of the road. Sam frowns at her as she puts the car into park and turns to him.  
  
“I do want to stop Lilith, and I do need you for that. But that’s not the only reason,” she says, with what looks like honesty shining in her dark brown eyes. “We’re friends, right?”  
  
Sam almost laughs. “If that’s what you wanna call it.”  
  
“Sam, I like you. I care about what happens to you. That’s the truth. And I don’t like a lot of people, so you should take that as a compliment.”  
  
“Lucky me,” he mutters sarcastically.  
  
“Hey,” she says softly, reaching out and touching his arm. “What’s going on with you?”  
  
Sam bites the inside of his cheek and doesn’t answer, moving his arm away from her hand.  
  
She sighs. “You know, if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together in the next little while. We might as well at least try to get along.”  
  
“Did you lie to me?” Sam asks, without really meaning to.  
  
Ruby frowns. “When?”  
  
“When we first met. When you said you could save Dean.” When Sam was drinking her blood on a regular basis he’d mostly forgotten about that, but it’s been back on his mind lately. “Did you just tell me that so I’d listen to you about everything else?”  
  
For a moment, Ruby doesn’t speak. Then when she does, her voice is quiet and apologetic. “I’m sorry he died. I know how hard it was for you.”  
  
“That’s not what I asked.”  
  
“No, I didn’t. I would never lie to you, Sam.”  
  
“So I could’ve saved him. With my psychic stuff.” It’s like a knife in Sam’s gut when she nods. He clenches his jaw and blinks back tears. “How?”  
  
“Does it matter?” she asks gently, turning her face back to him.  
  
Sam looks away, pressing his lips together and closing his eyes for a moment. He is never, ever going to forgive himself for that. Dean spent forty years in Hell, in the place pain and nightmares are born, and Sam could’ve stopped it from happening if he’d listened to Ruby instead of Dean. Dean’s complete mistrust of anything that isn’t human is so _stupid_ and short-sighted. He’s always been like that. Sam should’ve known better. Sometimes he thinks Dean would rather be dead than let something supernatural be right.  
  
“He’s back now, right?” Ruby says, touching Sam’s arm again, and this time he lets her.  
  
“He’s different,” Sam mumbles.  
  
“Of course he is. You both are, after what you went through. But you still have each other. That’s a lot more than most people have.”  
  
“He’s getting worse, Ruby,” Sam admits miserably. “I thought it would start to get better, you know? Once he told me about it, once he stopped pretending he was fine and let me help him. But he’s just so …”  
  
Sam trails off and doesn’t pick the sentence back up again. He shouldn’t be saying these things to Ruby anyway. Dean wouldn’t want her to know.  
  
“Sam, right now? Both Lilith _and_ Alastair are out there. They’re here, on Earth, running around breaking seals and whatever Alastair does in his spare time, which I can guarantee you would make your blood run cold.”  
  
“What’s your point?”  
  
“What do you think that’s like for Dean?” she reasons. Her hand is still on his forearm; her thumb rubbing back and forth over the fabric of his jacket. “The demon who tortured him downstairs and the demon who put him there are _both_ up here, instead of rotting in Hell where they should be. Don’t you think that’s messing with his head a little?”  
  
Sam frowns. He hadn’t actually considered that, but maybe she’s right. “Dean hasn’t said anything.”  
  
“Because he’s Dean. He doesn’t want anyone to think he’s weak. Just because he doesn’t tell you how he’s feeling doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling anything at all. You know that. Lilith and Alastair are like ghosts to your brother, haunting him. Keeping him stuck in the memories, not letting him move on.”  
  
Sam looks at her, searching for even a hint of deceit in her eyes, but he doesn’t find any.  
  
“If you stop Lilith, Dean will get better. I promise.”  
  
Nodding, Sam takes a deep breath and sits up a little straighter. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”  
  
“Are you good?” she asks with one eyebrow raised slightly, and Sam nods again.  
  
“I’m good. Let’s do this.”


End file.
